The other two guards shifted, looking uncomfortable at the insult Kieran shot at Rourke. Rourke knew one of them as a soldier who’d protected Conall when the Italians took him. He didn’t know his name, but he’d heard that Sloan had thanked him. To any faithful man, a debt of gratitude meant the world. Rourke would know. He owed Sloan that same debt.
The door shot open and Conall glared out at Kieran. “What the hell is going on here? Did I just hear you call Tormey a fag?”
Kieran’s face paled, and he shook his head. “No, sir.”
“Really?” Conall crossed his arms over the thin gray T-shirt he wore. Rourke noticed he’d changed into long pajama pants too, which happened to be a dark red that matched the collar he still wore around his neck. “Are you telling me I misheard?”
“No, sir.”
“Then why the hell did you call Tormey a fag?” Conall stepped closer to Kieran. He didn’t have height on anyone standing here, but he certainly held himself like someone seven feet tall, and Rourke gave him credit for that. Maybe he would knock these narrow-minded soldiers into shape. “You do realize I’m afagtoo, right? And so is the boss.”
“I know that, sir.” Kieran’s gaze slid to the other two men, looking for help, but they stayed silent like the smart soldiers they were. “I didn’t mean to insult you.”
“But you did.”
“I just meant Tormey is a—”
“Tormey is a fag. Yes, I heard you call him that. I like cock just as much as you think Tormey does. So Iama fag too, right?”
Any smart man would have known when to shut his mouth, but Kieran seemed anything but smart. He gripped his inked hands in front of himself and shook his head. “Tormey’s different, sir, he’s….” He glanced at me, mouth twisting with disgust. “He’s a traitor.”
Conall raised his eyebrows toward me and shrugged. “I don’t care what you think he is. If Sloan trusts him, so do I. Let him in.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, sir.” This came from the man who’d saved Conall’s life. He eyed Conall carefully, warning in his gaze. “While I believe you should discuss matters with Mr. Tormey, taking him into your bedroom would not impress the boss. May I suggest you go to his office?”
Conall glanced between the three guards and sighed. “Fine, but I’m not getting changed out of my pajamas. I’m comfortable.” He strode past them and stopped in front of Rourke, smiling. “Lead the way, Tormey.”
Rourke tilted his head in acknowledgement and walked back down the wide hallway that he came from, Conall right on his heels, his bare feet padding on the carpet quietly. His shadow soldiers weren’t as discreet, their heavy footsteps making Rourke cringe. When he got to the office door, he opened it and took the chance to glare at the men hovering behind Conall.
“We’re still operational, gentlemen, and we have important guests enjoying their time at the Virtue, some who have paid for overnight stays. I would suggest you not walk like elephants in a glass house.”
Conall snorted and slid through the door. “Now there’s an image.” He closed the door before his guards could enter, which had them, or more specifically Kieran, yelling their disagreement about being left outside. Conall rolled his eyes and turned to Tormey. “You got a drink?”
As if on cue, raised voices interrupted them and one of the guards popped his head in. “Mr. Morrissey, there’s a whore by the name of Forrest here.”
“Let him in.” Conall waved his hand.
The door opened again and Forrest slipped through, a glass bottle of expensive whiskey in his hands. He grinned as soon as he saw Conall. “Well look what the Irishman dragged in. I wondered why those big mountains of men were hovering out the door. I thought Terrance finally caught me.”
Conall laughed. “Not yet, but one day he’s going to, and I won’t be here to save your arse.”
“You like myassright where it is.”
Rourke ignored the spike of jealousy that sparked inside him. He reminded himself that Forrest and Conall had history, and it wouldn’t do him any good to think too much into it. He hadn’t lied when he told Terrance that Forrest was gorgeous, because he was and he knew it, too, but he also wasn’t going to risk his trust with Sloan. Fucking the Virtue’s highest earning professional would do just that. Emotions fucked a lot of people up.
“Don’t let the soldiers hear you say that. They’ll think I’m having threesomes with you and Tormey behind Sloan’s back and snitch on me.” Conall fell into one of the wingback chairs in the corner and crossed his legs. “WhyamI here, Tormey?”
Rourke held out his hand to Forrest, who dutifully passed him the whiskey and then took the other wingback chair. He got three short tumblers out of the bar cabinet and poured them each a drink and then passed one each to Conall and Forrest.
“Forrest, would you like to tell Conall why he’s here?” Rourke took a sip of the alcohol, savoring the burn as it slid down his throat. He dragged the third chair in front of his desk, closer to the other two, and he fell into the seat, placing the tumbler on his coffee table between them.
Forrest’s cheeks flushed as soon as he took the first few sips of his whiskey and swallowed. “You know how I spent some time with Average Adrian?”
Conall swirled the amber liquid in his glass. “I’m aware.”
“What you don’t know is that his dad is a senator. Adrian’s never had an easy relationship with his father. They always saw things from opposite perspectives.”
The niggling sense of jealousy that made his stomach curdle returned. Adrian was only a john, someone who spent money to fuck Forrest, yet the affection in Forrest’s voice said Adrian meant more to him. Rourke grabbed his tumbler and downed the drink in one swallow.
